Sense of a Wish
by Tigerdust
Summary: Xander Harris makes an impulsive wish at an impulsive moment after Tabula Rasa in season six. One wish really can change everything.


"Mommy! Look at that man!"

The kid with light brown hair that curled slightly at the bottom of his head was working with a loose tooth when she became entranced with the colors. Her mom stopped at the pulling of her arm as they plodded along in the only Frys Electronics for miles around. It was a big warehouse store and she was already tired enough without the interruptions.

She hushed the child quite loudly. "Don't stare, Trudy! It's not polite!"

Trudy's head moved from the man back to her mom and then swung between the two, as if deciding. "But, he's winning on expert!"

There was a small group around the man with the eye patch. His raven hair stayed stationary, his eyes focused. Xander Harris did not dare move for fear he would lose track of the buttons. Playing "Knights of Cydonia" on hard and getting over ninety percent would be a glorious achievement. Xander Harris refused to fail.

The manager of Frys never complained when Xander was there. Besides being his most thorough night stocker and part time employee, he was the best at attracting game customers. The longer he worked on his Guitar Hero skill, the more of them they sold, or Dance Dance Pads, and even the GPS prodigies from the next aisle over. Xander's skill was contagious. Everyone wanted it. Everyone but Xander that is.

Tony had been keeping a watch from afar and upstairs. Not Xander's dad, but one of his charge bosses had been watching and shaking his head in disbelief. He had to give it to the lean and fluid kid, his gawkiness long metamorphosed, that he was good. Dedicated, charming, and good. Tony, the boss, was the antithesis of Tony, Xander's father. He was heavy set and bald, but he had a great sense of humor and loved making baskets of blueberry muffins on one of his employee's birthdays.

He had single-handedly helped Xander win employee of the month six times since his appearance with an application filled in legibly with a royal blue pen. He remembered Xander clutching to his application and looking all around the store, that trembling feeling that Tony knew so well, that one that started in the left leg when you were trying to get the lay of the place.

Xander tired after four hours, even his Scooby stamina had limits. Tony saw the stoop in the boy's shoulders and knew. Grabbing a Gatorade from the employee fridge that he had set aside, fruit punch was Xander's favorite, he hustled down onto the floor after taking a moment to straighten his tie.

Xander Harris looked down at the callouses on his fingers while people clapped and cheered around him. He was oblivious to it all. He knew when Tony was coming though and tried to protest when the Gatorade and a small wad of bills marked "for gas" passed into his free hands. Turning his head and blinking, Tony put his hands up to show he would not be taking them back. Xander merely shrugged, not willing to deny charity when it was freely given.

Taking the long, winding roads home, Xander watched as the sun lowered from midday and closer to three in the afternoon. He checked the alarm clock near the door when he opened it with his key. The shades were drawn, meaning Willow was either sleeping or out shopping for supplies. Xander assumed it was the supply run for her weekly ritual with Oz. They had become closer ever since he had sent the letter before the Rising of the Potentials. He was a father now, and a good one. Xander was proud of the soft-spoken werewolf. Prouder than the words which didn't get in the way much anymore.

Willow came out of her room still bearing the rustling white bags, not quite brimming with supplies but with odd things poking out at angles. They hugged and Xander sat down in front of the television to play Dead Rising while Willow calmly laid out her supplied and chanted.

Oz appeared, or what would be considered a magickal hologram of Oz. He preferred "limited psychic portrait of his chi", but it was Oz all the same.

"Hey Willow."

Willow looked out of the corner of her eye, unable to either hug or see the wolf straight on. But that was okay. She knew his warmth, knew how he was caring for the girls. The most important thing now was keeping Xander protected since Kennedy had died at the hands of the Japanese vampires bearing Buffy's scythe. As long as the traces of magick were tied to her and not Buffy, things would remain safe. Until the Powers felt otherwise.

"Hey Oz. Ooh, Xander says hey!"

Oz waved at the back of Xander's head as Xander waved nonchalantly while concentrating on finding his save spot.

"How's he doing?"

Willow nodded, finding it a little easier to carry on a conversation with Oz, she hoped he would never ask to be called Daniel, when she envisioned the two of them talking on a cushy white sofa. That was just too grown-up a concept for her to even handle. "Pretty well. Short shift at work today, must have stayed to play a little. Tony slipped him a gatorade."

"His boss sounds like a pretty cool guy."

Willow was in agreement. "We were blessed. How's Buffy and Dawn?"

Oz shrugged. "They're working through the monastic life. Dawn has the hang of steppe farming, but Buffy's still struggling with the meditation in the morning. She never was much of a morning girl."

"Mmm. I can recall many mornings when we had trouble enough getting her to class on time if it was at eight am."

Oz chuckled. "Well, she hasn't got that luxury anymore. If she wants to really head the new Watchers Council then she's gotta pull the work. Buffy knows that. Says she misses you and Xander."

Willow sighed. She hated admitting that too. "We'll try to visit when there's a calm in the storm, but I don't see that happening."

Oz opened and closed his mouth as he thought about his next words. He wanted to tell her about how his kid still sat up and called out Will's name, or as close as it could get, when he fell down trying to walk. "Did Xander try the game I suggested?"

Willow coughed a little. "Nah. He says he prefers Guitar Hero to racing games. Says his coordination is still a bit off."

"I don't buy that."

It was Willow's turn to shrug. "Not pushing it. He seems happy enough."

"I'm not sure he is Will, but I think I'd best get going. I don't want you taxing yourself too much. Take care of yourself and we'll talk soon."

"You too."

Willow took a moment to collect herself, allowing her back to hit the part of the wall behind her. She watched Xander hit a zombie over the head with a super secret Kirby vacuum before turning her thoughts to food. She would need to start dinner soon.

Xander didn't need to hear her get up, he just knew when she had. But he remained absorbed in his video game, even with the sizzle of tofurkey in the pan. He didn't mind tofurkey nights. If he squinted and chewed, he could imagine it tasted like the inside of a Chef Boyardee ravioli. Life was alright, as far as he could tell.

It was when the games were turned off or the nights were a touch too long or he saw the bright lamplight in a video game that his body quaked a little, starting from the stomach. Anytime he saw a stoplight, he stopped and thought in a daydream sort of way. He never told anyone. Not his encounter group at their weekly meetings, not his doctor. Not even Willow. He couldn't tell them what he remembered, what had happened.

_"I just don't wanna hear anymore!" He had screamed, the nastiness reverberating around inside his skull._

_Anya was racked, near tears. Spike was silently amused and terrified at the look Buffy was giving him. "Please, Xander, I never meant to hurt you. Spike was just..."_

_"Spike was just what? No, okay, don't even tell me. There is no excuse for sleeping with this vile thing! I can't even look at you!"_

_"Wait, you have to let me...."_

_"No!" Xander cried. "No more! If you wanted to hurt me, get back at me, that's fine. You've done just the right amount of damage. I have to get out of here."_

_And that's what he had done. Smashing the window and hot wiring the first reliable car he could find, Xander drove. He didn't care if he was tossed in the slammer. He didn't care if he was bitten and drained. His blood was cold, his skin was crawling to a point where he wished that he could tear it out. A little rational part of himself was trying to be heard but was being buzzed down by his immature side. He still wasn't ready to move on from the black and white part of it all that he had started this little fiasco knew as the Scooby Gang._

_The car rolled to stop three miles from a secluded beach with no name and closed gate he could climb over. He screamed into the waves and wind._

_"Fuck! I don't want to hear anymore excuses or lies! I don't want to hear anymore! I wish I didn't have to hear anymore!"_

_He felt the presence of a vacuum of magic and turned, startled. It was that black haired vengeance demon from right before the wedding. Her eyes played with amusement as she raised her hands._

_"Wish granted."_


End file.
